


a sirius of (un)fortunate events

by Duskglass



Series: harry potter & the ridiculous fix-its [5]
Category: Harry Potter (books)
Genre: 'Bavarian Fire Drill', Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Fix-It, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humour, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Multi POV, OotP AU, Post-Azkaban, Professor Sirius, Sirius & Remus live, Smart Sirius, Wolfstar Bingo 2020, based on a tumblr post (....sort of), do not repost to other sites/apps, dogfathers, get-together, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28196196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duskglass/pseuds/Duskglass
Summary: in which Harry accidentally puts Severus Snape into a coma with the power of Snark, and Sirius Black must step up to fill the sudden staff vacancy... and Draco Malfoy is the only one who seems to have noticed (or cares) that the real Snape has gone missing.((or: sirius impersonates snape & turns out to be a better potions teacher than snape ever was))
Relationships: Harry & Sirius & Remus, Remus/Sirius
Series: harry potter & the ridiculous fix-its [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994197
Comments: 7
Kudos: 141
Collections: Wolfstar Bingo 2020





	1. overture

**Author's Note:**

> wolfstar bingo prompt fill: 'Singing Off-Key' ~~both literal & figurative; bear with me on this one lol~~

**i.**

It's the first night back after winter hols, and Albus Dumbledore stands up before the food appears on the plates to address the figurative elephant in the room: namely, that there is a man sat in Professor Snape's chair, who has long black hair and is dressed in Snape's customary billowing black robes (the ones that render their wearer reminiscent of an overgrown bat swooping about the castle). This man is quite clearly Not Severus Snape.

'Welcome back, students of Hogwarts!' the Headmaster announces warmly. 'I hope that you have all had a delightful Yuletide, and have returned well-rested and freshly prepared for another term of magical study.' Dumbledore beams around the hall (the students, many of them eyeing Umbridge warily, are not so optimistic). 'As I am sure you have all noticed by now, we have something of a new face among our staff--' (Dumbledore gestures at the Man Who Is Not Snape, who nonetheless glowers very Snapeishly back at him) '--that of our beloved Professor Snape, who has regrettably been the target of a slight magical mishap over the holidays. I must humbly request that you continue to treat him with all due respect in these trying times, and that you kindly disregard his, ah, changed appearance.'

The other Professors cast sidelong glances at the Man Who May Or May Not Be Snape. The man continues to scowl rather melodramatically. Umbridge's beady stare flits suspiciously from Dumbledore to 'Snape', as though trying to catch either of them in a lie. McGonagall appears to be fighting the near-overpowering urge to roll her eyes.

'Well, now that we've got that out of the way,' Dumbledore continues brightly, 'dig in!' With that, food appears on the plates, and the headmaster sits with a sweep of his gold-trimmed violet robes, and that is, evidently, all he intends to say on the subject.

Naturally, the hall erupts into wild speculation.

  
'What d'you reckon happened?' a Ravenclaw fourth-year whispers to his friend. 'Do you know any spells that could change someone's appearance permanently like that?'

'It'd have to be transfigurative, right?' the second boy replies. 'Or maybe a potion, since that's Snape's subject-- maybe some Polyjuice that had gone off?'

'But why would Snape be using Polyjuice?' Padma Patil chimes in with a frown.

'Perhaps he had a run-in with a Quarrelous Quantritops,' Luna Lovegood says dreamily, from a few seats over (but the others pretend not to hear her and don't acknowledge this possible explanation).

  
At the Hufflepuff table, a sixth year leans in close to his best friend. 'Is it just me, or did Snape get... kind of hot?' he whispers.

The friend grimaces, her cheeks flushed. 'You're _right_ and I _hate_ it,' she grudgingly concedes.

Fred Weasley, sat just behind them at the Gryffindor table, chokes on his potatoes. George thumps him on the back, barely containing his own laughter (it's almost as though they know something about what happened, but if so they keep uncharacteristically silent).

  
And, on the opposite side of the hall, Blaise Zabini quirks an eyebrow at Draco Malfoy, who's sat just across the table from him. Draco hasn't taken his eyes off Snape since he entered the room, his brow pinched in a frown.

'He's certainly easier on the eyes,' Blaise drawls, 'but you'll give yourself a crick in the neck if you keep ogling him like that.'

Draco's head snaps back around, a pink flush burning across his pale cheeks. 'I'm-- I am not _ogling_ anyone!' he sputters indignantly.

'What _do_ you call it, then?' Blaise asks, his full lips curled into an elegant smirk. 'You've hardly taken your eyes off Snape since we arrived.'

'That man,' Draco hisses, 'is _not_ Professor Snape.'

Blaise shrugs noncommittally. 'Mmh... if you say so,' he says, the doubt evident in his tone. 'Personally, I don't see how it matters...' He glances along the table, where a few girls are giggling and blushing as they shoot poorly concealed glances at 'Snape'. Blaise smiles. 'But either way, it should be a _fascinating_ show.'

Draco grinds his teeth and fumes.

  
**ii.**

The fact is that Draco Malfoy has known Severus Snape since he was a very young child-- the Hogwarts Potions-Master was an old friend of his parents, and one of the rare individuals whose judgement they genuinely trusted. Draco had at times found Professor Snape to be rather odd in his mannerisms, and his hair always looks unpleasantly stringy and his robes nowhere near as fine as those of the other regular visitors to Malfoy Manor (the high-ranking Ministry officials and Pureblood socialites)-- but Draco had always been taught that Professor Snape is someone he can trust and confide in, or turn to for aid whilst at school, and it would be difficult not to like someone who so clearly favours him. Draco is quite sure that he would _know_ Professor Snape under any circumstances, even if he were in disguise.

 _No_ , Draco thinks-- the man who currently wears Severus Snape's robes and name, the man now teaching all of his classes, is clearly an imposter... and he will not be dissuaded, no matter how many times his fellow Slytherins scoff at the notion.

For, unfortunately, Draco is the _only_ one who seems to think so-- nearly all of his housemates have taken Blaise's stance, sure that it will be amusing to watch, and are even exchanging theories and bets... and many of them have developed _crushes_ on the man, much to Draco's absolute consternation.

And it only takes one Potions lesson (his first chance to get a closer look at the imposter) for Draco to deduce the false Snape's true identity-- Draco recognises those piercing silver eyes and sharp cheekbones at once, and is therefore quite certain that the imposter is none other than his disgraced ex-cousin, the escaped mass murderer Sirius Black.

With Snape having evidently been taken out as part of some nefarious scheme, Draco turns to the only member of staff he knows _isn't_ under Dumbledore's thumb.  


'Professor Umbridge,' he announces with relish as he strides into her lacy pink office, 'I know who is impersonating Professor Snape!'

To his dismay, Umbridge draws herself up to her full (less-than-impressive) height, and favours him with an icy stare. 'I expected better of you, Mr Malfoy,' she simpers. 'How dare you spread such slanderous lies about our dear Severus?'

Draco gapes at her. 'But-- but that's _Si_ \--'

' _Silence_ , Mr Malfoy,' Umbridge snaps shrilly. 'Or I shall have to inform your father of your abominable behaviour.'

Draco's fingernails dig into his palms, his cheeks burning red. '...Understood, Professor Umbridge,' he bites out.

Umbridge favours him with a sickly-sweet smile. 'Excellent,' she titters, dismissing him with a wave towards the door. 'Of course, you will not repeat this utter nonsense.'

'No,' Draco says, still fuming internally. 'I... don't know what came over me, Professor. It won't happen again.' He gives a stiff little bow, and exits Umbridge's office. He thinks her decor is _horribly_ tacky, anyway.

Draco doesn't know how Sirius Black has managed to dupe Umbridge, nor does he know what Dumbledore is playing at by replacing Snape with a convicted murderer (or has Black simply outwitted the old crackpot as well?) but Draco will not give up until he has got to the bottom of this, and come up with irrefutable proof that neither Umbridge nor his Father will be able to ignore.

  
**iii.**

Of course Dolores Umbridge had her doubts at first-- she had been the first to wonder what new plot the nefarious Dumbledore was up to, some further attempt to defy her and Fudge and wrest control of the Ministry from its rightful government-- but Severus had come straight to her office after the Feast (with his usual distasteful glance at her lovely interior design choices) and then he had suggested that they share a cup of tea as a gesture of goodwill.

'Veritaserum,' he'd said simply, as he set the small vial of clear liquid on the table. 'As I'm sure you are aware, it is impossible to lie while under the influence.' He arched an eyebrow (much thicker and bolder than his eyebrows used to be). 'You are, of course, welcome to test it for yourself before you administer it to me. A couple of drops will suffice-- that way it will wear off quickly.'

Umbridge had studied his face carefully, then summoned Mr Filch to her office (of course she was not so foolish as to drink the potion _herself_ \-- if he did turn out to be an imposter, who could say which of the Minister's secrets she might accidentally divulge). The man's eyebrow had quirked ever so slightly higher, but he had not commented on nor seemed offended by her clear suspicions, but rather had the look of a man who knew he had nothing to hide.

When Filch arrived, the man who claimed to be Snape carefully added three drops of potion to a cup of tea, which Mr Filch drank with an uncertain glance at Umbridge (who nodded primly-- the caretaker was merely a useful subordinate, after all). Mr Filch's eyes went vacant, and 'Snape' proceeded to ask him three questions: his own name, the name of the cat he'd owned in 1971, and whether or not he's a Squib. Mr Filch answered the first two questions without issue (Umbridge learnt that his previous cat had also been named Mrs Norris) but quite obviously struggled at the third, before a pained yes forced its way out through his gritted teeth (Umbridge filed this tidbit away for future use). A razor-thin smirk curled across the Potion-Master's face at Filch's distress, one which Umbridge found deliciously mean-spirited.

Once the red-faced and thoroughly humiliated Filch had been dismissed, Umbridge had splashed a healthy dose of the potion into Snape's cup-- and as soon as his eyes had gone unfocused, she asked his full name ('Severus Tobias Snape'), whether that had always been his name ('since the day I was born'), whether he was working for Dumbledore in any capacity beyond his duties as a Professor ('no'), what happened to him that changed his face ('an experimental transfigurative spell designed for the purpose of untransfiguring an element into its opposite backfired and regrettably struck me directly in the face'), and after running out of other ideas, she rather self-indulgently wrapped up by asking what he'd started doing to his hair to make it so luscious and glossy and full ('I've discovered the wonders of shampoo-- it's truly amazing what a little bit of self-care can do'). 

The potion had worn off soon after he'd finished describing the new shampoo he's been using, at which point he dryly asked if she was satisfied with his answer, or if she wished to inquire further into his haircare routines. Umbridge had conceded that it was convincing enough-- after all, it is impossible to lie under the influence of Veritaserum, and therefore Severus Snape must be exactly who he claims to be regardless of his changed face (which, Umbridge is pleased to note, is certainly much easier on the eyes than his original one).

And even more importantly, Severus had come not only to prove his identity to her, but also to apologise for past tension between them and to offer his services in exerting control over the student body-- he'd heard that she was fond of using a blood-quill as punishment and offered to make improvements upon the device, in addition to working on some useful potions for her. Really, Umbridge thinks, Severus is actually quite charming once one gets past the prickly exterior-- especially with the changes to his appearance, as his new features have an aristocratic elegance to them (which makes sense, if the backfired spell was related to transfigurative opposites).

No, Umbridge has no cause to suspect Severus Snape, particularly when there are far more important targets to pursue-- the half-breed Hagrid, the fraud Trelawney, and of course Dumbledore's most recent hire, a red-haired man with scars on his face by the name of Romulus Weasley.

  
**iv.**

The four Weasley siblings currently in attendance at Hogwarts are all quick to share tales about their long-lost Cousin Romulus, who (according to them) had gone missing while on a research trip to the Amazon when they were very young, where he had travelled to study man-eating plants native to the deep jungle. The intrepid Romulus Weasley had returned to England only this year (after having been presumed dead a decade before) with scars all over his face, his fascination for extremely violent plants not diminished in the slightest by his recent escapades. Rumour has it he has been hired to tend to the Whomping Willow on the grounds, and investigate recent disturbances at the heart of the Forbidden Forest.

  
'That new gardener looks a bit like Professor Lupin, doesn't he?' says Seamus Finnegan, scowling as he watches Dean Thomas staring at the man's rather striking features.

'Don't be absurd,' says Parvati Patil, sipping her tea as she compares Divination notes with Lavender Brown. 'Professor Lupin didn't have red hair.'

'Besides which,' Lavender adds, 'he's some Weasley cousin, isn't he? I mean, Ron says he's known him since he was a kid, and I'm sure Ron recognises his own cousin.'

Seamus sighs. 'Yeah... I suppose so.' He turns to Neville Longbottom, who has just joined them at the Gryffindor table. 'Hey, Nev-- you've talked to the new gardener, right?'

'Oh, yes!' says Neville. 'I showed him my _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ , and we had a long discussion about the properties of stinksap-- it's actually really good for the skin, and it's the main ingredient in the most effective known topical treatment for Dragon Pox, and it's useful as a soporific tincture when pruning Venomous Tentacula... He really knows his plants, Mr Romulus does.'

'Seamus thinks Mr Romulus is secretly Professor Lupin in disguise,' says Parvati, rolling her eyes.

'Oi, I never said that!' Seamus retorts, his cheeks flushed red. 'I only said they _look_ a bit similar, is all!'

Neville shrugs. 'I dunno, I wouldn't have thought so, really... but then, I suppose I'm not very good at remembering faces.' He pauses thoughtfully. 'Mr Romulus is very kind, and a good teacher, but it's not as though Professor Lupin is the _only_ good teacher out there...'

Lavender collects her notes into a tidy stack before returning them to her bag, then leans forward on her elbows. 'Speaking of nice teachers, though-- has anyone else noticed that Stupid Sexy Snape is a lot less awful than Slimy Stinker Snape?'

Seamus spits his pumpkin juice upon hearing the former of these nicknames, going even redder, and Parvati giggles and shakes her head. 'I keep _telling_ her that just because she thinks New Snape is _hot_ doesn't mean he's suddenly become a better person-- isn't that right, Nev?' 

'I dunno,' Neville says slowly. 'I mean he's still been docking points and favouring Malfoy, and he's already given Harry three detentions this term, but last potions class he actually told me what I'd done wrong, _without_ implying that I'm just too daft to ever get it right? And he explained _why_ the reaction had gone wrong, that adding porcupine quills too soon stops the puffapod beans from catalysing correctly with the frog oil and daisy root, and it's never made _sense_ before... and he told me that if I crush the beans with the flat side of the knife, it releases more juice than cutting it, and also it's easier to keep hold of without it shooting across the room and hitting someone in the head, so...'

So, yes, there is _definitely_ something weird going on with Snape beyond his changed looks-- but all things considered, no one really minds.

  
...No one, that is, except Draco Malfoy.


	2. serenade

**i.**

Harry had never thought, before winter hols, that he would find anything to genuinely _enjoy_ at Hogwarts this year-- between Umbridge's nasty detentions, and most of the students thinking he's a deranged liar, and being banned from Quidditch, the school that for years had been the closest he's ever had to a _home_ has been stripped of nearly everything he enjoyed about it. Even the DA (the one thing that brings him even a glimmer of satisfaction) is marred by the knowledge that none of it _should_ be necessary, that what they can manage themselves is not enough.

But, happily, he'd thought wrong-- after Snape's _accident_ at Grimmauld Place left him incapacitated, Dumbledore had been forced to fill the gap in his teaching roster swiftly (to avoid having a second Umbridge foisted upon Hogwarts by the Ministry)... and there had been only one candidate with the requisite potions skill and the availability to begin with so little notice.

Having Sirius present in the school (particularly as he's in plain sight and interacting with the student body and the other Professors on a daily basis) had been nerve-wracking at first-- Harry had spent the first week in a near-constant state of anxiety, terrified that he would be caught-- but it had soon become clear that nearly everyone who wasn't in on the plot had more or less accepted the cover story as Fact. Snape had always had his odd quirks and mannerisms, after all, and far weirder things had happened at Hogwarts than one man supposedly getting stuck with the wrong face-- and with Dumbledore and McGonagall and even _Umbridge_ backing up the story, there was little cause to doubt it (not to mention the new Educational Decree against accusing Vetted Staff of being imposters). By the third week of term, the Snape Problem isn't even worth a moment's thought when juxtaposed against homework or Quidditch or the latest gossip surrounding get-togethers and breakups-- for the most part, everyone has simply set the mystery aside and gone on with their lives.

Which brings Harry back to the absolutely _delightful_ spectacle surrounding one Draco Malfoy.

Not only is Malfoy absolutely convinced that 'Snape' is not who he appears to be, he has become increasingly infuriated by the fact that no one else (not even his fellow Slytherins) will listen to him. Harry truly can't remember the last time he's had so much _fun_ as when he overhears Malfoy in the throes of his latest impotent meltdown-- particularly since Malfoy has recently got it into his head that if only he can secure a detention with 'Snape', he will at last have the chance to expose Sirius, and this has in turn led to increasingly elaborate rulebreaking hijinks. Sirius (who has gleefully leant into his Snape Persona) has of course responded to these infractions by rewarding Malfoy with House Points, and then finding some convoluted (or simply paper-thin) excuse to give Harry the much-coveted detention instead. 

Detentions with Sirius include such _horrible_ punishments as taking Padfoot for a walk, joining 'Snape' and 'Romulus' for hot cocoa while they mark Potions essays, sorting ingredients for upcoming lessons while Sirius tells stories from his own school days, and helping to devise new pranks. In addition to these, Harry also has Occlumency lessons taught by Sirius (who grudgingly concedes that Snape is _technically_ better at it than he is, but also firmly holds to his opinion that Snape would have been the worst possible candidate to teach Harry, which of course Harry agrees with). Harry spends most nights of the week in these 'detentions', which pleases Umbridge to no end and has drastically reduced the number of sessions he must spend in _her_ office (as she's convinced that 'Snape' is on her side and every bit as nasty to Harry as she is). Malfoy, meanwhile, can find no pleasure whatsoever in the fact that Harry is being 'punished' so frequently, as he is (once again correctly) convinced that this is all part of some Nefarious Plot.

The other Slytherins, meanwhile, are absolutely _living_ for this-- they do not care in the slightest what Malfoy does, or whether or not 'Snape' is real, as long as the situation continues to score them free House Points ('getting points is a _good thing_ , Draco', Blaise Zabini explains slowly, in a tone that suggests he is quite concerned for Malfoy's sanity-- 'it is NOT!' Malfoy snaps in reply, stomping back off towards the dungeon with ten more points to his name and his robes covered in hot pink feathers from the flock of flamingoes he'd released into the great hall at breakfast). Many of the Slytherins have even begun egging Malfoy on, competing to see who can talk him into the most ridiculous and over-the-top stunts.

Malfoy's latest effort involves striking a dramatic pose while stood up on his desk in the Potions classroom, as he belts out his own rendition of the Hogwarts School Song, complete with modified lyrics:

> _Hogwarts hogwarts hoggy-warty hogwarts,_  
>  _Give me detention please!_  
>  _Whether I dance upon your desk_  
>  _or bow on bended knee!_  
>  _You may think us all worth fooling,_  
>  _That it won't be so tough,_  
>  _But I don't care about clean hair--_  
>  _Your ruse is not enough!_  
>  _So don't bother with your acting,_  
>  _Bring him back you piece of Rot;_  
>  _I will not rest; I'll do my best_  
>  _for our Snape, whom You are Not!!_

The whole class (both Slytherin and Gryffindor) is in stitches by the time he has finished. Sirius applauds politely-- with what Harry can only assume is a massive feat of self-control, he has managed to keep his expression entirely neutral. 'Excellent vocal range, Mr Malfoy,' he deadpans. 'Five points to Slytherin, for gracing us with such a stirring performance.' Sirius turns to scowl across the dungeon at Harry. 'Potter, it isn't kind to laugh at others' attempts to express themselves artistically,' he adds (even though the whole class is laughing, not just Harry). 'You will report to my office at six oclock tonight for detention.'

Malfoy, who appears mere seconds away from actually frothing at the mouth, kicks over Pansy Parkinson's cauldron with an inarticulate yell.

  
One week later, Malfoy marches up to Harry as they're queueing outside the Potions classroom. 'I _know_ you're in on this, Potter!'

Harry eyes him blankly. 'Er-- sorry? I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about, Malfoy.'

'Yes you do!!' Malfoy screeches. 'You know as well as I do that's SIRIUS BLACK in there and no matter what I do he keeps giving me MORE STUPID HOUSE POINTS!!'

Harry quirks one eyebrow in a look of complete bewilderment. 'Don't you... _want_ House Points?' he asks (knowing full well that Malfoy does not).

'No!! I want DETENTION!!'

'Alright mate,' says Harry, rolling his eyes. 'But you _do_ know that Sirius Black was a Gryffindor, right? So _obviously_ he'd never give points to _Slytherin_ , if it were really him.' 

'No! You're WRONG!!' Draco spots Sirius opening the door to the potions classroom, and whips his wand out. 'Oh NO, _look at me_ , ATTACKING SAINT POTTER and DUELLING IN THE CORRIDORS like a COMMON DELINQUENT which is in DIRECT VIOLATION OF SCHOOL RULES!!!'

Sirius looks up from the sheaf of parchment he's holding. 'Ah, excellent work Mr Malfoy; twenty points to Slytherin for reporting Potter's transgressions.' He turns to Harry. 'One week of detentions, Potter, beginning tonight. Now, all of you, go set up your cauldrons; class begins in five minutes.'

Harry heaves a dramatic sigh as the rest of the students begin to file into the classroom (all giving Malfoy wide berth). 'Ohhh noooooooo... more detentions; how _terrible_.'

Malfoy turns and grasps Ron by the shoulders, shaking him. 'Don't you _see_ , Weasley? THIS ISN'T NORMAL!!'

'How d'you mean?' Ron says with a frown. 'This is what _always_ happens-- you act like an utter prat and get away with it, and Snape gives _us_ detention.'

Malfoy devolves into incoherent sputtering, and Harry ducks inside the classroom, no longer able to keep a straight face.

  
**ii.**

Neville Longbottom has always been terrible at Potions-- ever since his first year, it has been his worst subject (which he supposes is saying something, since the only subject he's really _good_ at is Herbology). Everyone from Professor Snape to his Gran and Great-Uncle Algie had assumed he was simply too dense to understand, or lacking something at his core, or not trying hard enough-- even _he_ had believed that it must somehow be his own fault.

Until just this last month, when 'New Snape' had taken him aside and, with a degree of compassion Snape had never demonstrated before, explained how to shift the problem into his own terms, which had quite frankly been mind-blowing.

'You're good at Herbology, aren't you?' he had said, in a calm and patient tone Neville has never known Snape to use. 'Herbology and Potions actually utilise similar skillsets, in that they both rely heavily on understanding the properties of plants and other natural components. As long as you know those base properties, you can predict how ingredients will combine and react.'

Neville has begun to think about these things during Potions class, and he's discovered that he's... well, not quite _good_ at Potions, but at least not hopelessly terrible-- he doubts he'll ever achieve Hermione's level of skill, or a high enough OWL score to continue the subject at NEWT-level, but at least he's no longer dead last compared to the rest of the class, and he's managed to work his way up to a steady _Acceptable_ grade. 

So, Neville now finds himself sure of two things: firstly, this 'New Snape' cannot _actually_ be the Real Snape-- but that's not necessarily a bad thing nor can Neville quite bring himself to care, because _secondly_ , the Real Snape is in fact a bully and an absolutely _terrible_ teacher.

He's fairly sure that Not-Snape knows that he has worked it out. Not-Snape doesn't seem to care, and continues to offer him bits of advice, not just on Potions but on spellwork in general. Sometimes, Neville wonders whether Not-Snape is aware of the DA and what they've been learning, because some of his comments are a little bit too coincidental... though Neville can't imagine _how_ he might possibly know, especially since Umbridge seems entirely convinced that Not-Snape is on her side, and he certainly hasn't been present at the meetings.

Harry has, however, invited Mr Romulus to the DA meetings. Everyone is nervous at first about an adult in the Room of Requirement, but Harry insists that he can be trusted. Mr Romulus had flat out refused to step up as a teacher (insisting this was 'Harry's class', with a small secretive smile as though sharing a private joke with Harry) but as they move on to Patronuses he does offer a few pointers, and he demonstrates a number of very useful (if highly unorthodox) hexes that even Hermione has never heard of.

Mr Romulus sometimes (but not always) brings his dog Padfoot along. On the first visit, the dog causes quite a stir (and Lavender Brown actually screams out loud, startling everyone even more badly) but even though the dog looks rather menacing and closely resembles a Grim (with his massive size and strange pale eyes and pitch-black fur) he turns out to be one of the friendliest and most well-behaved dogs any of them have ever seen. When Harry finally convinces Mr Romulus to demonstrate his own Patronus, the massive silver wolf is an almost perfect pearly-white echo of Padfoot, and the wolf and dog race across the room in perfect tandem, matching one another move for move in such a way that none of them can tell who is leading and who is following.

Luna watches with wide pale eyes, and tells Neville how the Grim was originally known as a guardian spirit and guide not unlike the Patronus itself, and it's really nothing to be frightened of. Watching them, it's not difficult to see how there might be some truth to what Luna is saying.

  
**iii.**

Harry hadn't known what to expect from his Occlumency lessons-- only that he's very glad he has the lessons with Sirius instead of Snape, as was originally intended. Sirius explains to Harry how Legilimency works, and how one common method for teaching it is through direct experience-- but Sirius states flat-out that he won't be using it on Harry. He's opposed to the technique morally and ethically, and has never used the spell himself. Harry shudders at the thought of having _anyone_ digging around in his head (but especially someone like Snape, who would no doubt have tried to twist what he found there to his own ends).

Instead they practise with Veritaserum, which has a similar enough function to Legilimency that it can be resisted through the same means, and therefore it's a decent substitute to practise with. 'This isn't a well-known method at all,' Sirius explains as he decants three drops of the clear potion into each of their cups. 'Those with Veritaserum immunity don't generally like to telegraph the ability-- for it to be effective, they have to believe it's working.'

'How did you learn?' Harry asks, thinking of wartime espionage. 'Was it because you were in the Order?'

Sirius shakes his head. 'It was... expected of me, as Heir. They would dose us at random, as a test-- in _that house_ , we had to learn how to lie as a matter of survival.'

Harry grimaces. '...Oh. Erm.'

'But don't worry about that-- I thought we'd have a bit of fun with this.' Sirius smiles as he pulls out a stack of old photographs. 'I'm going to have you pick one of these at random, and then I'll ask you to describe them. The potion will compel you to give as much detail as possible-- your goal is to _not_ do that, to trick me into thinking you're looking at a different picture from the one you chose.' 

Sirius spreads the photos across the table, and Harry can't help but give a little gasp-- they're all images of the young Marauders, Sirius and Remus when they were in school and shortly after, and James and Lily, and even Peter Pettigrew, and some other girls (Lily's friends?) whom Harry doesn't recognise.

'Between rounds, you can ask me about them,' Sirius offers, a little uncertainly. 'I can't make promises about my memory being all there, but I'll do my best.'

Harry grins. 'I'd like that-- whatever you do have to tell me.'

Sirius smiles back, and lifts his cup to sip his tea. 'Right then-- I'll go first.'

Try as Harry might, he can't make out which one Sirius is describing, no matter what he asks-- and when it's Harry's turn, the details seem to spill out of him, and he physically _can't_ describe something that isn't there. Sirius makes it look so effortless, but it's incredibly difficult.

'Lie with the truth,' Sirius advises. 'Describe elements that are present, but use your framing to mislead.' But even this is beyond Harry's ability, and when he begins to get frustrated Sirius tells him he didn't expect Harry to get it on the first try-- which is so reminiscent of his dementor lessons with Remus that he laughs, and has to explain to Sirius that Remus had told him almost exactly the same thing.

And, looking at the number of photos that show Sirius and Remus hugging or lying all over each other, a sudden thought occurs to Harry-- and it seems so _obvious_ in retrospect, when he thinks of Sirius and Remus's joint Christmas gift to him, and their shared bedroom back at 12 Grimmauld Place. 'Er-- are you and Remus... together?' 

'...No,' Sirius says softly-- he sees Harry eyeing the photos, and shakes his head. 'Never were.'

He doesn't elaborate, but the look of pained longing on his face tells Harry more than enough.

  
**iv.**

When Remus first heard of the Plan for Sirius to (quite literally) take Snape's place at Hogwarts, he had desperately wanted to tell Sirius and Dumbledore in no uncertain terms that they'd both gone quite mad-- there was no way that a notorious escaped convict could simply waltz into a school (right under the nose of one of the Minister's closest cronies, no less) without getting caught. It was a _terrible_ plan, and Remus had hated it. 

But he hadn't said anything, because he'd known from the manic glint in Sirius's eyes that Sirius wasn't going to back down from a chance to escape Headquarters, and in that moment he'd understood that if Sirius _didn't_ get out, the consequences would be disastrous. So instead, he had insisted on joining Sirius at the school under a fabricated identity of his own (for which he's very grateful to all the young Weasleys and their willingness to cover for him-- thankfully their family is so large that no one questions the sudden appearance of another long-lost cousin). In the end, all it takes for Remus Lupin to become Romulus Weasley is a bottle of Muggle hair dye-- and, apparently, all _Sirius_ needs to convince the whole of Hogwarts that he's actually Snape is a set of the potion-master's robes and the absolute unshakeable confidence with which he plays the part.

Now, several weeks into the ruse, Remus has made a complete about-face: he does not regret agreeing to this ridiculous scheme in the slightest. How _could_ he, when he can slip into Sirius's rooms in the evenings and watch his friend's whole face light up as he talks about the latest day-to-day shenanigans, when they can all laugh their way through Harry's 'detentions' and use the time to get to know James and Lily's son properly...? And of course Harry isn't James, or Lily, and neither Remus nor Sirius are who they were back then either-- but there is something magical about being back in the castle, even (or perhaps _especially_ ) under such risky circumstances. Remus revels in the chance to hear Sirius laugh again, to see him given the chance to thrive, more _alive_ now than he's been in over a decade.

On this particular night, it's just the two of them, with mugs of hot cocoa spiked with firewhisky to keep them warm-- Sirius had firmly drawn the line at actually sleeping in Snape's room (which works out just fine, as Snape was decidedly not the type to invite his colleagues to tea or drinks in his personal quarters, so there's no one to notice the change) and had instead chosen an out-of-the-way chamber with large windows looking out on the lake's murky greenish waters-- it's a fascinating view (Sirius never seems to tire of watching the shadowy movements of the Giant Squid's tentacles swirling past the thick warped glass) but one that makes for chilly rooms, particularly at night.

'I just don't understand it, Moony,' Sirius says-- several days before, Harry had mentioned that one of his classmates definitely has a crush on Sirius, and only that afternoon Sirius had found a heart-encrusted doodle accidentally left behind by one of his NEWT-level students. 'How could _anyone_ fancy Snivellus?'

'Pretty sure it's _you_ they fancy, Pads, not Snape,' Remus replies, rolling his eyes. The hearth-fire casts a warm healthy glow over Sirius's face, framed by the soft waves of his raven hair. 

Sirius snorts incredulously, and even this is unfairly attractive on him. 'They all _think_ I'm Snape, though! So it's the same thing really.' Sirius sips his cocoa. 'How did you handle it, when it was you?'

'Erm-- how d'you mean?'

'When you were teaching here,' Sirius says. 'Seeing as they've even gone after _me_ for some incomprehensible reason, you _must_ have had to deal with your share of awkward student admirers.' 

Remus scoffs-- the very notion is absurd. 'Why on Earth would you think that?'

'Because I've seen the way some of them stare at your arse even now,' Sirius replies, rolling his eyes. 'With you stood up in front of a classroom every day, they'd have had an even better view.'

'I find that very difficult to believe,' Remus says dryly. 'Whoever you've allegedly seen, they probably just have a thing for gingers.'

'Oh, no, that _can't_ be right,' Sirius laughs, 'you're _much_ sexier with your natural hair.'

Remus freezes. 'What,' he croaks, strangled, unable to quite believe his ears-- but it's a joke, surely it _must_ be--

Sirius blinks at him, the slightest flush creeping up his sharp cheekbones as it occurs to him what he just said. '...Er. I mean.'

'I know; it's fine,' Remus says with a forced smile. 'Redheads never were your type, right?'

'No,' Sirius agrees. He swallows, visibly nervous, staring down at the half-empty cup in his hands (its contents now more firewhisky than cocoa)-- then, in one decisive motion, he drains the rest of his drink and looks Remus straight in the eye. 'But I'd make a special exception for you, Moony.'

'...You're drunk,' Remus croaks, even though they've only had a couple of shots each, and even though Sirius's gaze is level and clear. 'You're joking.'

Sirius takes a deep breath, and sets the cup aside. 'Are you saying that because it's what you _want_ to be true,' he asks softly, 'or because you can't believe that I might fancy you like mad?'

Remus feels the blood rush to his cheeks (and... elsewhere). 'Oh,' he breathes.

'Because everything I said was the honest truth.' Sirius shifts forward, off his chair and to the floor at Remus's feet, reaching slowly for Remus's hand (and Remus lets him take it). 'Because I was a bloody coward and never said anything _before_ , and now it's occurred to me... what if I miss my chance again?'

 _This is a terrible idea_ , Remus means to say, but it gets lost en route and instead his traitorous mouth says, 'Kiss me.'

Sirius's pupils are blown wide, and their bodies are pressed close together as Sirius crawls up Remus's chair, but when their lips finally meet it's only the softest brush of skin, the briefest flick of a tongue.

It's Remus who first loses patience and leans into it, tastes the spiced burn of firewhisky-laced cocoa on Sirius's tongue-- he brushes his fingers along Sirius's sharp jawline, feels just the slightest scrape of stubble against his palm. Sirius is a rather clumsy kisser (not that he'd had any chance to practise in Azkaban or while on the run, so it's not exactly surprising) but Remus likes the rough edge to him, his inexperience perfectly complemented by a degree of genuine loving enthusiasm that Remus has definitely never been kissed with before.

'You're wrong about one thing,' Remus murmurs when he pulls back, their foreheads still touching and eyes half-closed. 'It's _definitely_ all you that I'm into.'

Sirius laughs, and they're so close that Remus can feel it in his own chest. 'The overgrown bat look doesn't do it for you?' he drawls. 'I'm _shocked_ , Moony.'

'It covers your arse, which I'll have you know is a fucking tragedy.'

'Are you quite sure about that?' Sirius tilts his head to one side, brushing his lips against the curve of Remus's ear. 'Because this way... you get to have the sight all to yourself.'

' _Oh,_ ' Remus breathes.

'We've got plenty of time to ourselves, Remus Moony Lupin... and for as long as we're alone like this, you can look all you want.'

By way of answering, Remus twists his hand into Sirius's hair and pulls their mouths back together, and Sirius's shit-eating grin melts into another deep and passionate kiss... and the pile of essays they had planned to mark that night remains untouched on the coffee table.


End file.
